


limit to your love

by hisdirtyshoes



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, M/M, Zayn is a bartender, harry is in an indie rock band, it's not a lot of niam lmao, lots of fluff tbh, side niam, zarry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 17:21:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4675046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hisdirtyshoes/pseuds/hisdirtyshoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn is an artist/bartender who likes reading (and his cat) but his world gets turned upside down with the arrival of a curly haired boy in an indie rock band.</p>
            </blockquote>





	limit to your love

It’s one of those days again, when Zayn thinks why did I become a bartender?

It’s cold and drizzly, a normal December day in London, and slowly he’s heading into the pub, beanie on, leather jacket draped over a loose shirt, same old pair of jeans, and he’s aggressively trying to finish his cigarette. He knows it’s going to be a slow night at Gracie’s and decides he might as well be grateful for that. 

Some nights he loves his job. Some nights it’s bustling with people inside, all sorts of lives being altered. He watches people as he nonchalantly pours their drinks, having memorized every combination imaginable. He sees them as they lock eyes, graze arms, look down and then look up. Then there’s a click. Like a switch. A smile, a touch, a kiss, and it’s either off home or off to the toilets. He would never admit it, but he loves that, loves seeing the click. 

Tonight he’ll probably be seeing the clock tick and that’s about it. He’s been in a shit mood since yesterday. He’d finished his latest book and he hates being in between good books. He feels lost without a world to escape to.

With a sigh, he throws his stub to the ground, which is already damp, and heads inside. 

Gracie’s hasn’t changed a bit since he started working here two years ago. Still the same pub, wood everywhere, splashes of Man U paraphernalia on the walls. He was fresh out of Uni and feeling lost and he decided to take a year off from life to tend bar. That year turned into two, and here he is. English literature it turns out is not the most lucrative, career-fueling degree. 

He doesn’t mind most days as his life has become an unwanted routine. He goes to the bar, works, goes home to his small apartment and Elmo, the ginger cat he took in a few months back, reads, plays video games, reads more, listens to music, eats pot noodles, and starts all over again the next day. The only thing that really breaks it up is Liam.

And here Liam is now, bursting through the kitchen doors.

“Mate, did you see the match?” he says arms around his back, tying his apron on, which is covered in some sort of frying batter, red kerchief around his head. He’s been working at Gracie’s about as long as Zayn has. They became friends just after they had both started, they were the new guys. Not so new anymore.

Honestly, Zayn doesn’t even know how it happened. Liam asked him if he wanted to join him for breakfast after work one day, and Zayn was starving so he said yeah, sure. Next thing he knows they’re buddies. Now it seems, he has a friend. He’s not even sure he wanted one to begin with but Liam’s nice, he supposes. He’s funny in a dumb sort of way, which Zayn likes. He’s the nicest person Zayn knows. He’d give you the shirt of his back if you asked for it. 

Liam is still going on about football as Zayn unzips his jacket and shakes his head, mumbling “I don’t even watch football? like...” and puts his leather jacket under bar where it usually goes. Liam just ignores him and keeps on rambling about the game.

Finally he finishes his rant with a loud “Ridiculous!” and shuffles back into the kitchen to continue prepping the food for the night, hi arms up as he pushes through the swinging doors opening them with shove. 

Liam always tries to talk to Zayn about everything going on with him and Zayn knows he can come off as a dick sometimes but that’s what he likes about Liam. Liam just laughs and knows...he knows Zayn would never hurt him on purpose. The thing is that Zayn doesn’t know how to not feel whatever he’s feeling in the moment. So usually he closes himself off. Why open up to people, if once you’re open, they don’t like what they get? 

He’s been telling himself that a lot lately, though maybe that has something do with Lael.

\-----

The night is getting along, and there’s a few patrons at the bar, but it’s been slow as Zayn had predicted. It’s a weeknight, it’s raining, and it’s getting close to Christmas. People are out shopping for their people and that’s just how it is.

Zayn knows Liam would be out shopping too if he could be since earlier he had been going on about how he’s got a bunch of sisters to buy things for and as usual, no idea what to get them. Liam said his mother told him if he brings home gift cards again this year he’ll be disowned. 

As he slaps a plate of nachos on the bar for their regular, Andy, Liam grabs Zayn by the arm. 

“Hey are you doing anything tomorrow?” he asks, as Zayn pours a new beer for Andy.

Zayn shrugs, “No, just work, later on...” tomorrow’s Friday which means a bigger crowd, at least it’ll go faster than tonight.

“Want to go to shopping with me?” Liam asks, looking desperate. “I have to get the girls something, I’ve no idea what to get them.”

He thinks about it for a minute but inevitably says yeah. He really has no plans and he might as well pick up some things while he’s at it.

\----

Zayn wakes up around noon. His bed around 5 feet from his tiny bathroom as he rolls out of bed and shuffles with his socks on his feet to the toilet. He feels rested but a bit groggy, and as he stands to the sink, he splashes some water on his face. Looking in the mirror and running a hand through his hair, he can see he needs a cut. The sides, which he usually keeps trimmed, are growing out. He doesn’t bother to shave. He puts on the same thing he was wearing the night before, his jeans and his grey tee. He feeds Elmo and gives him a little rub on his head as he has his morning coffee and cigarette in his favourite chair by the window. Elmo purrs away and Zayn finds himself smiling at that as he looks down onto the street below. 

Later, Liam is waiting for him at the tube and they head to Selfridges. Liam is positive they’ll both find what they’re looking for there and Zayn is happy to go along with it as Liam is particularly adamant that they go this this particular store. As they ride, Zayn notices Liam’s put a bit more effort in than usual and has his beard trimmed nicely, hair coiffed, and wearing a nice maroon blazer. 

“You’re looking a bit spiffy today, we’re just going shopping.” Zayn says, teasing, as he looks Liam up and down. “Where’d this come from?” he says, pawing at Liam’s new blazer, he’s wearing it with jeans and a sweater underneath, it looks good Zayn has to admit to himself.

“It’s new...it’s nothing!” Liam says, brow furrowing “I just want to look presentable is all, we can’t all go around looking like we never do our laundry like some people”

Zayn lets it go and laughs. He’d defend himself but it’s true, he’s let himself go a bit these days and he knows it. He remembers a time when what he wore mattered to him, what he looked like mattered, what other people thought of him mattered. His shoes, his watches, his glasses...everything was different then, though. The small things mattered, but lately it’s like he’s forgotten. He just lets that part of him slide now...along with so many things.

“You look good bro, is all I’m sayin” he says then and Liam sighs, almost letting out a breath.

“Thanks mate. Do you fancy me now?” Liam nudges Zayn with his elbow, raising his eyebrows exaggeratedly. 

Zayn joins him laughing, “I know too much!” 

Maybe in another life Zayn would fancy Liam, but the truth is that it’s Liam who knows too much. He was there when Lael left. He picked Zayn up a year ago, off the ground outside Gracie’s and it was Liam who brought him home and made him cheese on toast. It was Liam who had sat there in silence as Zayn just cried. He had cried, and cried, and cried. Liam had never judged him for what had happened and if there’s anyone who deserves better than Zayn, it’s Liam.

The day is sunny thankfully, though a bit chilly. People are everywhere, and Zayn can hear Christmas music blasting from cafes and shops along the street. When they get to Selfriges, it’s packed full of people with lineups at every counter.

“Why did I agree to this...” Zayn mumbles as a man elbows past him as they amble their way towards the ladies perfume area. He hates crowds and Liam’s walking around like his head is on a swivel. “Liam, we’re here, it’s right here…” he says, pointing to the perfumes on the counter, but Liam isn’t paying any attention and when Zayn follows Liam’s eye line he can see why.

There’s a guy. Their age, mid-20’s maybe. Blonde. Good looking lad from what Zayn can tell, and he’s showing some bloke a tie and Zayn’s already shaking his head and laughing.

“So you just had to come to Selfridges today?”

“What?” Liam says, breaking his gaze and looking at Zayn, eyebrows up.

“You’re pathetic.” Zayn says, holding back a laugh. Liam pauses for a moment, probably wondering if he should bother defending himself and gives in. 

“He’s Irish!” he says, whining, and Zayn knows now why Selfridges was a must. “Listen…he was in here last week and I saw him helping a guy and he...he smiles and… STOP IT” but Zayn can’t help himself giggling. Liam’s dated a few guys since he’s known him but this is the first time he’s had a part in him asking someone out. He finds it particularly amusing. 

He stops laughing finally and does the right thing “Go on then, go talk to him!” he says, waving him on and Liam lurches forward, fixing his blazer as he walks toward Blondie at the counter.

Zayn watches them for a moment, as Liam asks Blondie about some socks, it seems. Zayn doesn’t watch for too long, though. He wants to be happy for him, and he is. He is. He watches long enough to see it. 

Blondie is laughing, quite loudly, at Liam, who's apparently said something very amusing and Liam is taking the sock from him and...yep. There it is.

Click.

\---

“AND HE’S A DRUMMER” Liam hasn’t stopped talking about Blondie since they’ve left the store, and Zayn is rather amused at just how into this guy he is. Liam was able to tear himself away long enough after to see the gifts Zayn had picked out for his sisters. He was on too much of a high to really care, but Zayn thinks they’ll be perfect for the girls. 

He’s just happy Liam’s happy and decides to let him stay excited. “Nice. What band? Anyone we’ve heard of?” Zayn asks as they hop on the tube back towards home.

“No I don’t think so. He said their name was The Lads, or something like that and they’re just starting getting gigs now and he was saying how they’re looking for a place and….” Liam’s eyes drift off then and Zayn waits for the rest of the sentence but it seems to have floated off.

“What?” He says finally, after a few moments.

“Zayn. Listen, Zayn.” and another pause. Honestly when he gets like this Zayn could just slap him back to reality every time he gets an idea. You can almost watch his brain put it together.

Finally he can articulate it, “we should see if Lou will let them play at Gracie’s. I’m gonna call her right now. I have to...they could…” he’s already got his phone out and listening as the rings go through. Lou is the owner of Gracie’s, a small pixie-like lady, with punky clothes and silver hair. One of the nicest people Zayn’s ever known really.

Finally she answers. “Lou. Listen...there’s this band…” and so it goes, moments later he’s ending the call triumphantly. “She said yes! I have to call him now…” Liam starts glazing through his contacts.

“You got his number then? Nice.” Zayn’s impressed.

“Why yes. Yes I did.” Liam smiles his little pleased smile and dials him up, though Zayn can tell even through the smug look on his face that he’s scared half to death.

He gets his voicemail. Liam’s voice is a little shaky, and it’s so cute Zayn has to stop from giggling. 

“Hi, um, Niall...ah, so this is Liam from the store...like, just 20 minutes ago” he laughs nervously “um...anyways...so I told you I was a chef, yeah? Well, I work at this pub, it’s called Gracie’s, it’s in town and...well if you guys...The Lads...want a gig, you can come play there tonight. So...yeah, I just...we….we had an opening y’know? and I...I thought of you...ok...ok bye...just call me...if you want to...ok, ok then, bye…I hope...you day...was good...ok bye...”

When he pushes the end button he’s white as a sheet.

Zayn can’t help himself. “Ramble much?” and he braces himself for a punch.

Liam goes for his arm with right hook. “Shut up!”

\----

Zayn’s in his element when he’s at home alone. He’s got a couple hours till work and he wonders what to do. These precious few hours to himself, how can he use them. He looks at his shelf of books, a queue that continues to grow. He looks at his desk, his easel next to it, a painting half finished from a year ago. He knows he should call his mother since it’s been a few days, ask how his baby sisters are doing. But instead he seats himself on his small sofa, lays his head on the armrest and waits for Elmo to climb on top of him. Finally he jumps up and sits on Zayn’s chest and the weight is nice as Zayn scratches behind his ears and he purrs. Zayn knows he should be doing something but right now, this is all he needs. He’s not sure when he’ll want anything more ever again really.  
\------  
A loud buzzing jolts Zayn awake and he realizes it’s time to leave for work, the night sneaking in as he slept. He doesn’t bother looking in the mirror as he leaves. He sticks his black Misfits tee shirt on, his Docs and leather jacket too, ready for the busy night ahead. Also preparing himself to pick up the slack for Liam since he’s going to be distracted all night by Blondie...er Niall, it’s Niall, he tells himself over and over to remember. 

When he gets to Gracie’s he can see it’s going to be a busy night. Throwing his jacket under the bar and getting to work right away. Andy is in his usual spot like always, and Liam seems fine going about his usual motions. Zayn gives him a mental high five for keeping it cool. 

Lou’s a little less than pleased to find out that The Lads are pretty much just a start up band with no reputation or even any fans really, but she loves Liam (and the fact that he cooks a mean burger) so she let’s it pass. 

She musses with her bangs in the glass reflection behind the bar “as long as they sound good, it’s alright. Wouldn’t mind a bit of liveliness around here anyhow. It’s been a bit dead lately innt?”

Zayn just continues to cut new fresh lime wedges, and doesn’t answer, but she’s right. It’s been dead at Gracie’s for a few months. Especially when summer ended and the new place, a dance club, opened up just down the way. Frequented by some minor celebs, the younger crowd have been flocking there ever since to get a glimpse of the girl from East Enders or the like. 

Ignoring his silence, she continues on reassuring herself “might help business to get a young band in here to play anyway” she says finally, heading into the kitchen to give Liam a hand, though he seems to be holding up fine.

That is until the band shows up.

Lou is shaking Niall’s hand and telling them where to set up. She put the word out as much as she could earlier that day, stapling a few posters around the street and propping a sign up outside saying LIVE MUSIC TONIGHT. That’s the most she could manage in the short amount of time. Niall is nodding and smiling big, thanking her, gesturing around and Zayn thinks he likes this Niall character after all. That’s when he feels Liam’s heaving body next to him.

Liam’s eyes are on Niall. He’s not blinking. “Oh god” he says, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

Zayn knows he’s going to have to talk him down a bit. He turns him and puts his hands on Liam’s shoulders. “Okay, listen yeah? You are a strong, and an incredibly talented chef, and you are fit and you are funny and you can talk to him. You can. Okay? You can do this bro.” he says then, taking Liam’s face in his hands, looking into his big brown eyes. Liam just nods in return. “You can do it, now go” he says, physically turning him around and practically shoving him out from behind the bar. Zayn almost goes back to work until he notices something. “Wait! bro!” he says shuffling after Liam and untying his messy apron covered in grease and crumbs, taking it off his shoulders. “Okay, okay! Now go!” he says half laughing as Liam smiles nervously, pats his clothes down and makes his way over. 

Niall is already setting up his drum kit when Liam approaches. Zayn is watching them from the bar as he’s wiping the surface down. Smiling to himself as he watches Liam bumble over his words and as Niall is simultaneously endeared by it. He can tell Niall is already in deep. He can tell by the way Niall smiles at Liam, looks at him sidelong as he’s placing his high hat on, the way he asks Liam about work and then as Liam is about to leave, how Niall bites his bottom lip watching him go. Keeping his eyes on him just that little bit too long. 

He knows because that’s how Lael used to look at him. When Zayn would walk the halls of Uni, catching Lael glancing at him in the library. Seeing his big blue eyes under the dark rim of his glasses, catching a glimpse of his blonde hair in the corner of his vision. Knowing he was watching. Giving him a show. Zayn was so different then, he has to shake his head a little from remembering too much. 

Thankfully Andy snaps him out of his trance. 

“Dude, can I have another?” he’s holding his glass out for another pint and Zayn feels bad for making him wait. The man spends half his paycheck here.

“Oh man, sorry bro!” Zayn says, grabbing the glass and refilling it quickly.

“S’alright mate, just wondering where you went for a second”

“Sorry man, I was just distracted. S’cool to have a band in here, something going on ya know?” says Zayn, trying to come up with some excuse, he doesn’t want to give Liam away too soon. 

“Yeah man. Who’s this band anyway?” Andy asks, stuffing another fry in his mouth after smothering it in ketchup. 

Zayn shrugs a little, “They’re called The Lads. I don’t know if you know them or what” 

Andy surveys the pub a little, his eyes narrowing a little at someone in the distance “I don’t know that band but I know him” he says, nodding his head and Zayn turns to look towards the boys setting up. He sees Niall in the back, then another bloke fooling with an amp, guitar strapped over him, kinda reddish mousy hair, he’s a small guy, wearing Vans sneakers and a Vans tee shirt at the same time. There’s another guy on bass but he’s lingering next to Niall, barely visible. Zayn can just pick out that he’s very tall and he has bright green hair.

He’s not sure who Andy’s talking about until he sees a mass of dark curls rise up, after being bent over apparently messing with a foot pedal. His hair is tied up in a red and blue scarf of sorts, his jeans are too tight, far too tight, his shirt is unbuttoned too low, he’s in all black with a big silver cross hanging from his neck. He looks vaguely familiar.

“That guy?” Zayn asks, intrigued, pointing towards Curly.

“Yeah” Andy answers, mouth full of food. 

Zayn waits for Andy to continue but to no avail. “Well, who is he?” he asks, impatient, maybe a bit too impatient.

“That’s Harry Styles mate, you know, his mom is Anne Cox, from the 80’s, Foxy Coxy?” Andy says still shovelling food in.

Zayn’s still staring at this Harry Styles as he’s setting up his mic, his mind searching for ‘Anne Cox’. Suddenly he remembers his friend from high school, and his room, and poster above his bed. ANNE COX in big letters, a beautiful brunette in a bikini. Yeah, Zayn knows who she is now. 

“Holy shit” Zayn mumbles as he’s still watching this Harry Styles, now laughing at something with Niall. He’s all arms and legs from what Zayn can tell. He’s tall. His face is a bit goofy looking but the dimples are killing Zayn. He has to stop watching him, he’s getting too distracted from work.

“Yeah he’s a right slag too” says Andy, quite casually as he bites into his hamburger.

That takes Zayn back a little. “What’d ya mean?” 

“Nothing, just rumours, but my cousin hooked up with him and he didn’t manage so much as a goodbye to her. Apparently he just gets with anyone. You should go say hello.” Andy says with a grin. “He’d like you.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, Andy’s always been a shithead. “What’s that supposed to mean man?”

Andy laughs “nothing, you just seem like you could use a little sexual healing is all mate, you’re so wound up these days. Liam says you’re sexually frustrated.”

“Oh Liam says that does he?” Zayn’s a bit pissed if he’s being honest. He does alright. He’s had a couple hookups since Lael. It’s not like he’s celibate. He sure as hell doesn’t need to get with a slag singer from some shitty band. 

Ok they’re not shitty. Zayn has to admit that once they start playing. They’re actually really fucking good and as the night goes on, and more and more people pour in, he realizes that this was a great idea for Gracies. He can see Lou thinks so too because she’s basically dancing on the tables by the end of the night.

The worst part is Harry. Because not only is he getting significantly more attractive, the sweat beads forming on his forehead, his face getting redder, his breaths shorter, but there’s the fact that he can actually sing and Zayn is just a boy. He can’t help himself. The songs are original and the crowd that’s packed in the bar are going wild and Zayn can see Harry just eats it up. Licking his tongue out, egging them on to get more and more wild. At one point Zayn has to go outside for a smoke to compose himself and he senses Lou coming out behind him.

“Oh my god what a bloody night this is fantastic!” she says. Zayn knows she hasn’t had a thing to drink and yet she’s buzzing with excitement.

“I know it’s been wicked!” Zayn says, giving her a light as she waits, cigarette in her mouth. 

“Bloody hell he’s a right good singer ain’t he?” she says nonchalantly. 

“He is” Zayn can’t get the sound of his voice out his head to be honest.

Lou gives a loud cackle then, “yeah I know you think so!”

“Oi, fuck off!” Zayn says, though he can’t stop from laughing too, he’s shit at hiding when he thinks someone’s fit. 

She takes a couple more puffs before throwing her cig to the ground and dousing it with her chunky boots. “Go say hi then” she says with her eyebrows raised and heads on back inside. 

Zayn stays outside for a bit. The air is chilly and it feels good after how warm it is inside. He’s making a killing on tips and he thinks he’ll buy a new cat tree for Elmo out of it so the little beast can see out the window. 

He tries to let his thoughts wander but then he thinks about the way Harry smiled watching all the people sing a bit of a chorus. He thinks about the way his eyes looked over everyone as if they were telling him they loved him. 

He throws his cig to the ground then and rolls his eyes at himself. This is a bad idea and he’s not getting into this. Not again. He decides to not think too much about Harry Styles. He heads back in, just a couple of hours left and he can go home where it’s quiet. Where’s there’s not so many people crowding in his head.

\----

“So I said ‘why not play at Gracie’s?’ and here we are!” Liam is spouting the story of how The Lads ended up at Gracies, to a bunch of new friends he’s made that night, while Niall sits next to him beaming. Niall’s leaning back on his chair, his arm laying casually on the back of Liam’s chair. He’s watching Liam talk, watching Liam’s eyes crinkle with every laugh and every smile. He’s infatuated. Zayn smiles to himself a bit as he sits opposite them at the table, listening to every word but staying quiet, observing.

The Lads had finished around midnight, and most people had dwindled off home afterwards. Zayn had cleaned up pretty quick and was hoping to skip home until he saw Liam’s face. His question to stay sounded casual but his eyes were screaming PLEASE STAY, so Zayn couldn’t go. He had to help him out with this, but now that’s he’s right here with them, he can see Liam didn’t need his help at all.

The band had packed up and now they’re all sat around the table as Liam does most of the talking. Zayn can see small conversations here and there. Lou is talking to the guitar player, whose name Zayn has learned is Louis, and they’re clearly talking business. Zayn can tell he’s the one calling the shots for the band. He seems like a fidgety fellow but Zayn notices he hasn’t had a drink all night, and he seems serious when he’s talking business.

The tall, green-haired bass player is talking up a few girls by the bar, and from what Zayn can see he’s not doing so great.

Then there’s Harry, sitting almost directly across from Zayn and paying rapt attention to Liam as he talks. Zayn tries to ignore the fact that since they’ve stopped playing he hasn’t really been able to stop watching Harry. He’s been quiet, almost polite in his manner despite being drenched in sweat and looking ridiculously hot because of it.

When Liam finishes his story, Niall starts telling Liam something, leaning over and whispering almost, and Zayn can see they’re words only meant for Liam. Suddenly Zayn doesn’t know where to look but then neither does Harry and their eyes meet in the awkward space.

They look at each other for a moment until Harry finally says something.

“Hey, I don’t think we’ve met, I’m Harry” he says then with a small smile and tiny wave from across the table.

Zayn can only return the smile. “Zayn” he says, nodding once to say hi. 

“You’re the barkeep?” Harry says, trying to make small talk and Zayn’s a bit put off as that sort of thing has never been his specialty.

He tries to find something interesting to say but just ends up answering with a small “Yup.” 

Harry just nods a bit. “Right, right...do you like it? Bartending?”

“Sure.” Once again Zayn is searching his brain for something but he can’t find any words. 

“Cool” Harry answers in return and then just takes a sip of his drink as other conversations float around them.

More silence but it’s Harry who speaks up again. “You don’t look like a bartender” he says, almost more a statement than a question and Zayn really doesn’t know what to say to that so he just shrugs and takes another swig of his drink.

Zayn’s not trying to be rude. He can see Harry was just trying to make conversation but he’s already finding himself drawn to Harry and Zayn knows that if he gives more, if there’s even just a slight chance with this boy, he’ll be fucked and so he just looks down at his drink, sloshing the ice cubes around.

Thankfully it’s Lou who’s fills the silence, turning to Harry. “Harry, right? How long you been singin love? You’ve got a great voice.”

Harry looks at her and his face lights up once again, smiling. “Thank you so, so much. I love it. Always been singing really” He talks so slow, Zayn realizes. How irritating. “On stage and in bed. My two favourite places” he says then with a grin, and Zayn suddenly realizes Harry’s looking right at him as he takes a sip of his drink. He’s a right flirt and Zayn can’t help but notice his eyebrow cocked up. What’s he playing at?

Zayn swallows and suddenly realizes his mouth is very dry.

“Oi, you’re a cheeky one!” Lou says with a laugh and Harry throws his hands up in the hair, mocking offense.

“I like to take naps!” he says through his smile and Zayn just looks down, ringing his hands. Lou goes back to talking to Louis and Harry is looking at Zayn again and Zayn wants to be invisible. 

Why does he have to stare at him? Zayn notices his eyes are green. Not blue green or hazel or anything like that, they’re just green. It’s the nicest eyes he’s seen in a long time. He wonders what paints he’d need to mix to get that colour…and then all at once he wants to leave.

“What about you? What’s your favourite place?” Harry asks Zayn then, moving forward and putting his elbow on the table. His eyes expecting an answer as he rests his chin on one of his hands. Zayn notices a cross tattooed by his thumb, and then he’s thinking about Harry’s hands... 

He needs to get out of here.

“Home” he says flatly. “And I should be heading there actually” and abruptly, he stands and heads for the bar to grab his things. Stupid charming dimples and stupid green eyes. He’s playing that on loop in his head as he’s putting his leather jacket on. 

As he’s standing behind the bar, he sees something out the corner of his eye, a red plaid moving in the dark by the hall to the toilets. When he squints and as Lou heads into the kitchen, the light from the swinging doors illuminates them. It’s Liam and Niall. Zayn hadn’t even noticed them leave the table, all the distraction from Harry.

Niall’s back is on the wall, his hands on Liam’s neck. Liam’s arms on the wall on either side of him. They’re kissing. Zayn looks away quickly as the dark engulfs them again, just as Blondie was starting to nibble on Liam’s neck.

Zayn would feel happy for Liam if he wasn’t overflowing with envy. 

He decides it’s really time to go and he pats his pockets checking for his wallet and keys and quickly paces out the door. Zayn just wants to go home and go to sleep.

Zayn paces so fast out of the pub, he almost hits her with the door. A girl around his height, she’s back on to him and he can’t see her face but her hair is purple and she’s wearing a beanie. Her arm is linked around his - Harry’s. Harry lets her in the cab first and shuts the door behind her, walking around the car to get in, his hands in the pockets of his long black coat. He looks up before he gets in and catches Zayn’s eyes in the doorway. He looks at Zayn a moment, staring at him again and then gets in the cab and they speed off.

For once, Zayn knows he has made the right decision. Knows he dodged a bullet. The last thing he needs is to be pining after some singer in a band. 

If anything, he feels bad for Purple Hair. He’s fairly sure she won’t be getting a full English breakfast in the morning.

\----

It’s two days later and Zayn dreams about Lael. It’s always so jarring when he does. He hates it. 

It’s like when he dreams about his Grandmother who died a couple years ago. It’s almost as if during the day you forget things about them. In waking life you don’t remember their smell, or their voice, or even their face, at least not fully. 

But in dreams it’s so real. So just like when he dreams about his Gran and can smell the familiar cinnamon and spice musk that followed her around, so is the same with Lael. 

The way his hair felt, the sound of his laugh, the smell of his shampoo. The way he said Zayn’s name. The taste of his mouth. 

He can feel the ghost of Lael’s arms around him when he wakes up. He doesn’t jolt up. He just opens his eyes. The room pale with the small amount of light seeping in. He touches his side where Lael’s arm would be. 

Just when he thinks he’s done remembering Lael, he has a stupid dream. It takes at least a day to shake it. He hates it.

At least work is a distraction. Ever since The Lads played, the place has been buzzing. They weren’t even scheduled till next Friday but people kept asking and so Lou decides to have them play again tonight. It’s Sunday but The Lads are up for it and Lou likes to keep customers happy. 

Zayn hasn’t thought too much about Harry Styles since. Watching him leave with some bird on his arm was enough for Zayn to know he can’t deal with someone like him. He’s not judging him. Hell, he was the same before Lael. A different lad every other week, but he can’t let himself fall for anyone, ever again. He won’t take any chances.

That night Zayn finds out the hard way that it’s easier to ignore Harry’s existence when he’s not basically stripping and riding a mic stand in plain view. Right in Zayn’s eyeline to be exact. It’s all Zayn can do to remember a customer’s order from 5 seconds ago.

It’s quite a show. Harry’s licking his fingers, putting the mic stand between his legs (his legs in those tight jeans he seems to never take off) his shirt is basically transparent and now Zayn is noticing the tattoos. He’s got almost as many as Zayn does. He spots one on his abdomen, something on his lower stomach. He sees two swallows clearly on his chest. Zayn starts thinking about what they could mean, why he has them...and he has to go for a smoke again. Right away.

He yells at Lou that he needs a break and she breezes over to cover him. She can’t help but nudge towards Harry and cock an eyebrow at Zayn and it’s all he can do to not tell her that he knows. He fucking knows. He doesn’t need to be reminded.

It’s a cold ass night and he’s wrapped in his jacket, puffing furiously on his cig, when he feels his phone vibrating. His fingers like blocks of ice as he swipes the screen to answer. The number UNKNOWN.

“Yeah?” he says. There’s some silence, but someone’s there. “I’m here man, but I can’t hear ya.” he waits a bit and finally a voice comes through, it’s like a knife to his head.

“Zayn, it’s me, it’s Lael.”

“Jesus.” is all he can say. He doesn’t know what else TO say.

“Nope, it’s Lael.” He’s making a fucking joke, what an absolute prick.

“What do you want?” Zayn asks, finally. 

He can hear Lael sigh.“I just...I just wanted to say hi. I’m back in town visiting some friends for a couple days. I...I didn’t know if you wanted to talk or anything? If…”

“Why the fuck would I wanna talk to you?” Zayn’s mad now and he hates it. Why is Lael calling him?

Lael sounds sad. Zayn hates that he’s sad. Zayn hates the fact that he still even cares how Lael feels. 

“We left...we didn’t say goodbye and...I guess I’d like that.” Lael answers, matter-of-factly, with his American accent heavy now.

Zayn can feel his chest constricting. “Oh you’d like that would you? Jesus...I can’t...I can’t talk to you man. Don’t call me again. You want goodbye yeah? Ok, goodbye, you broke my heart, goodbye, you left me here. You fucking left me. That was goodbye. But this will be your official goodbye. Goodbye.” Zayn ends the call then and he can hear Lael’s voice saying something on the other end before pressing the little red circle that ends it. He’s shaking. He hates getting mad but he’s shaking so hard.

He needs to calm down, but his chest feels so heavy and he can’t catch his breath. He’s felt this before. A very specific reaction to stress. He feels like he’s drowning. He needs a shot of something to calm down and when he turns around he comes face to face with a sweaty, mop topped, half naked man with a look of guilt on his face.

“I’m so sorry, I just..I was only looking to get some air and you were...and then I saw you were on the phone...I’m so sorry.” is all Harry manages to say. Zayn just looks at him a moment and closes his eyes, taking in a breath.

He strangles out some words. “It’s okay, it was just...an ex. Nothing to see here.”

“Are you okay, do you…” but Zayn’s already breezed past him, knocking his shoulder, and inside before Harry can say anything else. 

He’s so tired of people. He just needs a drink.

Liam is chatting to Niall by the bar when he sees Zayn. He knows right away. Zayn sees him whisper something in Niall’s ear and then he’s in front of Zayn before Zayn can even reach for a shot glass.

“What’s going on?” he says, his face serious.

“Fucking...it’s Lael. He called me. He...he just called me.” Zayn feels something inside wanting to spill out. Tears? Laughter? Rage? He’s not sure. He’s just looking at Liam and Liam knows. 

Liam gets the shot glass for him.

\---------

By the time the bands finished playing, Zayn has probably had enough to drink. They’re all sat around the table again, Niall resting his head on Liam as he lies back on the bench seat. Liam’s arm around him. Zayn watches their hands intertwining. He wants to scream. So instead he has another drink and soon enough he doesn’t feel mad anymore. Seems like everyone is enjoying drunk Zayn by the time Lou is trying kicking everyone out. Keyword trying.

Zayn can’t stop giggling at Mikey, the bass player, laughing at his lime green hair. For some reason it’s just so funny to him. Suddenly he remembers Purple Hair. Suddenly he’s looking at Harry. 

Harry’s been with them all night. Couldn’t find some unsuspecting prey tonight then, Zayn thinks. Harry’s just leaning on the bar chatting to Louis, drinking what looks to be a pint. Zayn looks him up and down. He sees the hole in the knee of his jeans. The shape of his legs. The way his hip juts out just a little. He’s still wearing that stupid see through shirt.

Zayn decides to go talk to him.

He’s a bit wobbly but Zayn saunters up to the bar, his head down but he’s looking straight at Harry through his lashes.

His mouth moves before his brain has time to catch up. “Might as well not wear a shirt altogether” he says to Harry. He feels the words spill out without a filter. Like he always does when he’s had a few drinks. Feels his confidence go sky high. Feels his insides burn at the sight of something he wants. He can’t turn it off when he’s like this and right now he wants Harry.

“Well that’s a bit rude now innit?” says Louis with a huffed laugh. 

“Can I talk to you?” Zayn says then, just to Harry. Louis might as well not be in the same room.

Louis stops leaning on the bar then, propping his body between Zayn and Harry a little, a warning. “Man, listen, I think you should go home alright”

“I want to talk to Harry for a minute” Zayn’s annoyed with this Louis character. He wants Harry to stare at him again. He wants Harry to talk just to him now. Ask him what his favourite place is so Zayn can show it to him. 

Harry puts his hand on Louis’ shoulder a moment, says something in his ear that Zayn can’t hear. Louis gives Zayn an annoyed look before taking his leave, heading over to where Liam and Niall and the rest of the band are congregated. 

Zayn invades Harry’s space a little, leaning on the bar next to him. Taking Harry’s pint and stealing a swig. Harry’s looks incredulously. 

“Well that is rude” he says, but he’s smiling a little and Zayn is feeling better and better.

Zayn smirks. “I can be like that sometimes” 

Harry takes the glass back from Zayn’s hand and has a gulp. “I noticed” he states. They don’t say anything for a minute. Zayn’s trying to read his face. He wants his hands all over Harry but does Harry want them to be? 

A few seconds later he gets his answer. Harry moves closer, close enough that Zayn can smell the alcohol on his hot breath as moves his mouth to Zayn’s ear. When he whispers, it’s so low it might as well just be vibrations.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Zayn’s whole body exhales then. He’s jolted a little, he needs more to drink. He hears the little man in the back of his brain saying that this is bad idea but...but…

He takes Harry’s glass again and drinks the rest. It’s a good half pint and he gulps it back in one long swallow.

Harry’s already hooked his finger into a belt loop on Zayn’s jeans and is leading him to the toilets.

Zayn’s head is getting fuzzier and fuzzier but Harry’s mouth is so hot and he tastes so good. He’s up against the wall of the toilet stall and Harry is over him, kissing him, and it’s enough for Zayn to get dizzy. So he just buries his head into Harry’s neck for a moment and Harry’s hands are around him now, his lips on Zayn’s neck. Zayn can smell his cologne on his shirt, his shoulder length hair brushing on Zayn’s face, it’s so soft and all at once Zayn wants to go home because it’s already too much.

He’s already going to remember too much. 

He wishes he had drank more so he could let go. So he could enjoy this. And fuck, fuck he is, he’s enjoying it so much it’s unbearable. Harry’s hands travel to Zayn’s ass and it’s all Zayn can do to try to writhe out from under him. Harry’s doesn’t catch on right away, pulling Zayn closer and Zayn can feel how hard Harry is already. 

He can’t...he can’t do this. He pulls Harry’s face away from his, their mouths letting go. 

Zayn puts his hands on Harry’s chest, pushes him away a little, trying to look him in the eyes, god they’re so beautiful. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t” he sputters out over and over, “I gotta go, I have to...I have to go” and Harry lets go right away, his face confused, his brow furrowed. 

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” he asks then. He seems so genuinely concerned but Zayn knows that this is normal territory for Harry, hooking up in a bathroom stall. It’s easy for Harry just like it was for Zayn but Zayn can’t do it and he just has to leave.

“No, no...I can’t do this, not with you. I’m sorry.” is all he can manage as he leaves the stall, trying to hurry before he changes his mind again.

“Can’t do this with me?” He hears Harry behind him now. He doesn’t want to hear it. Why can’t Harry just find another person to hold on to tonight? “Am I not good enough for you then?” he can hear Harry say as he’s follows Zayn out. Why is he following him?

Zayn leaves the bathroom and jolts out to the dark corridor, letting the door swing shut but he hears it opening behind him. He see’s Harry buttoning up his ridiculous shirt as he follows him. Zayn tries to get him to stop, talking to Harry over his shoulder, “Bro just...just find someone else…” Zayn’s head is fuzzy now, he wants to go home and be alone. He’s so tired.

Harry grabs his arm before Zayn leaves the dark hallway out of from the toilets. Stops him before they’re in front of all their friends, before they make a scene. 

He’s whispering but he’s mad. “So what? You want me but then suddenly I’m not good enough for you? Is that how it is? Think you’re so much better than me cause you went to Uni?”

How does Harry know Zayn went to Uni. “How do you..”

Harry interrupts him then. “You’ve been a stuck-up prick since we first met but I’m good enough when you’ve had a few drinks aren’t I?” Harry stops himself and let’s go of Zayn’s arm. Zayn’s still dizzy and as confused as ever as Harry looks at the floor for a moment, his breaths heavy in his lungs, then he looks back up at Zayn like he wants to say more but he walks away, out into the bar. Head down as he runs a hand through his hair. 

Zayn decides to wait a moment in the dark hallway and he listens as Harry says goodbye to everyone quickly. He hears the door of the bar open and close. The bell rings. The sound echoing in his brain. He keeps hearing it all the way home.

\-----

A few days later Zayn dreams about Harry’s mouth. The way it looked after he had kissed him. The way the wet glistened on them, how red they were. He dreams about Harry’s hands on his sides, holding him. In his dreams he can smell him.

Later when he wakes up he can’t help but get hard thinking about it. He hates it. Harry’s stuck in his brain like it’s a flytrap and Harry keeps buzzing around where he shouldn’t. 

In the shower, he can’t turn off his thoughts as the boiling water runs over his skin. He thinks maybe he can burn the memory away, but it’s just making it worse. His hand travelling down, stroking himself. He thinks about the way Harry tasted, how he felt, and when he comes it’s almost a relief but also a realization. He’s not thought about anyone like this in so long. 

He lies in his bed afterwards, body still wet, his breath heavy.

He let’s out a disgusted-with-himself moan as he gets up and rubs his face in his hands. He can’t believe he’s hung up on this guy, this guy who’s probably shagging someone else right now, not even thinking about Zayn, and Zayn’s a stuck up prick to him apparently.

His phone vibrates on his bedside table and he reaches to answer. It’s Liam. 

“Mate what went on last night?” Liam asks him first thing. “Harry left, then you left, and you were both out of sorts and Niall was...well Niall thinks you fancy each other but like, you never said anything to me about it” 

Zayn’s just woken up, he needs a smoke, he can’t deal with this right now. “Listen, it’s nothing. He was there, I was drunk...nothing happened really. I don’t want to just hook up with anyone right now and…”

Liam cuts him off as usual “He was asking Niall about you. I think he really fancies you. He told Niall he thought you were well fit.”

“He says that about everyone Liam, he’s just looking to hook up, it’s what he does. I mean, you know that...” 

“What?” Zayn can hear Liam judging him on the other line. “Mate, that’s just rude.”

“Sorry”

“If you don’t like him just say man, but you don’t have to be like that. Makes no difference now anyway because The Lads got a bunch of new gigs. doubt they’ll be playin Gracie’s again any time soon. Lou’s livid. They got one more gig booked for tomorrow and then that’s that.”

Zayn feels bad at that. He can’t help but wonder if it has anything to do with him.

“Niall must be happy” is all he can manage. Trying to steer the conversation away from him. It works because Liam can’t stop gushing about Niall for the next 20-plus minutes while Zayn curls up in his chair by the window. Takes out a cig and smokes as Elmo curls up in his lap. Liam is so happy it’s almost enough to make Zayn happy too.

But after he hangs up and the quiet surrounds him once more, he continues to sit and smoke. He’s got the whole day to himself and he should probably do something. A day off work. First one in a while.

He looks at his books, his paints, his phone.

He sleeps till 3 in the afternoon instead. 

\---------

Liam calls him around nine o’clock to tell him that he and Niall are going out. Proper going out...and they want Zayn to come. 

Zayn thinks about it for a good 20 minutes before calling back and saying he’ll go. It takes every ounce of strength to do it. Then he spends the next hour trying to come up with a good excuse to flake out but he can’t come up with anything. 

He decides to try to have a good time. 

He cleans up a bit. Shaving the stubble that was almost a full beard, and rubs his clean shaven face. His hair still needs to be cut, but he rubs some product into it, flattening the sides. It looks decent. 

He’s kinda always known he’s good looking. He knows because he’s been told all his life that he is. He remembers when Lael told him that he was so intimidated by Zayn that, the first time they kissed, he thought he was dreaming. He didn’t think Zayn would look twice at anyone like him. 

But that was years ago. Zayn’s older now. His face is mostly the same but his eyes look older. He doesn’t wear the same clothes as used to. Almost everything he owns is black or grey now, just easier to wear when you work at a bar. 

He puts on his snake tank, decides he wants to show off his tattoos tonight. His sleeve almost done now. It’s taken a few years but he loves it and each one means something to him. Even the ones that he got on whims still mean something. Still represent a moment in time when he was alive. Hasn’t gotten a new one in about a year.

He puts on a heavy coat to block the cold air and heads out to meet up with Liam and Niall at the club.

Zayn feels like such a third wheel and they’re only just on the tube.

Liam and Niall are basically a human pretzel formed by two bodies and Zayn wants to crawl in a hole and die. Why did he decide to come out tonight?!

Niall comes up for air just long enough to tell Zayn that he’s looking good.

Well he has that then at least.

It’s freezing outside and Zayn walks with his hands shoved into his pockets. Thankful it’s not a long walk to the club. He hears the music from a ways away as he walks with his head down, watching his boots crunch on the street.

They check their coats and go inside the club and it’s so balmy inside, it’s such a contrast to the cold outside. The music is loud and booming and Zayn finds himself finally able to enjoy the moment. The DJ is actually good and he orders a drink from the bar, already feeling himself loosen up. Niall and Liam are already on their way to the dance floor, Liam giving Zayn apology eyes as Niall drags him by the hand out to the floor. Zayn just smiles and tips his drink to Liam. He hasn’t seen him this happy in...well, he’s never seen him this happy.

They disappear into the crowd and Zayn is alone in a room full of people. 

He scans around the room, searching faces, seeing if there’s anyone who’s noticing him too. He sees a few girls look him up and down. He spots a ginger bloke, pretty fit, eye him from the other end of the bar and Zayn thinks about it for a minute until he spots a familiar head of blonde hair. A pair of dark rimmed glasses and pair of blue eyes watching him. It’s Lael. 

And he’s walking towards Zayn.

\-----------TIME WARP WOFOOOofooOFOOFO

Zayn quickly texts Lael back. He’s laying in bed, the sun pouring into their apartment. He’s wrapped in a big white duvet and naked. They’d had sex that morning and Zayn had passed out right away afterwards. He never was a morning person.

But now it’s almost lunch and he has to meet Lael at their usual place. A little hole in the wall cafe to grab sandwiches and coffees. Lael had a big interview that morning. Something about a fellowship or something. Told Zayn he’d be a proper doctor after this and Zayn was so happy for him he could burst, so he can hardly wait to see him. 

When Zayn thinks back to that day, he can recognize the signs but at the time, it meant nothing to him. 

The fact that his toothbrush was gone.   
His clothes weren’t on the floor like usual.  
No dishes left in the sink.  
He thinks about the way Lael had looked down at Zayn, as Zayn took him into his mouth. He didn’t laugh or touch his face like usual. He’d looked different.

So when Zayn texted him a third time from their usual table at the cafe, and when he’d called him twice after with no answer, he didn’t quite put all the pieces together but he knew something was off.

He didn’t know he was being abandoned until Lael called him back after an hour of waiting. Zayn stood on the curb for the bus, on his way to the hospital where Lael worked. Worried something had happened to him.

He didn’t know it was over until Lael told him that he was on a plane back to America. That his father had told him he needed to come home. That his mother was sick. That Zayn was a nice distraction from life while he was finishing his PhD but now he had to go back to the ‘real world’

Zayn was a plaything and Lael was a grown up now.

So when Zayn sees him for the first time in a year, the last time being Lael cumming into his mouth, Zayn feels his stomach turn over. He feels like he’s going to vomit.

Lael has made his way to him and standing right in front of him he says “hey” much too casually.

Zayn looks at him, lets out a breath, and says hi back.

\----

Zayn remembers his mother telling him that because Zayn was so forgiving, she worried people would chew him up and spit him out and he wouldn’t even notice. 

So it goes now as Lael stands in front of him, chatting away. Telling him all about his life in America. Telling him how he’s engaged to a girl named Marnie. How his mother passed away. How hard it was for him. How much he wanted to call Zayn and talk to him, and how hard it was to let Zayn go. 

Zayn is quiet as he talks. Taking sips of his drink. Processing everything as people move around the two of them. It’s like they are in their own bubble of time while everyone moves faster around them. Lights flashing and the music booming in his ears but he can hear every word Lael is saying.

Lael tells him how if his father had found out about Zayn, he would have been disowned. He would have been cut off from the family money. He would never have been able to open his practice.

Zayn is still quiet. He feels tired suddenly. He’s shutting down again. He doesn’t have the energy to be angry anymore, he just wants to go home.

That is, until Lael comes closer to him and locks his fingers in Zayn’s fingers. Zayn exhales. The familiarity of it shocking him, making Zayn close his eyes. In that moment he can almost forget what Lael did to him, forget that he left him practically homeless. Evicted from their expensive flat they had shared that Lael had paid for. Left him to sell all their stuff to get by. Left him to cry into his mother’s arms. Left Liam to pick up Zayn’s pieces, to help find a routine again.

It’s almost enough to make him forget. 

Zayn’s eyes are still closed as he feels Lael come closer and closer to him and he can smell the same shampoo. He still uses it. Does Marnie dream about it like Zayn does? 

“I miss you, I miss you so much” Lael whispers into Zayn’s ear then, barely audible over the boom boom boom of the bass. 

It’s almost enough to make Zayn forget but it’s like forgetting someone who stabbed you as you were still kissing them.

Zayn opens his eyes. “I think you need to leave” he says flatly. He’s pushing Lael away. He’s looking at his face straight on, right into his eyes. It doesn’t hurt anymore. He’s done. “You need to get away from me. There’s nothing here anymore.” He’s keeping his voice steady. He’s looking at the boy he used to love and he’s telling him to go. He feels steady on his feet. He’s glad he’s seen him now because now he knows, now he knows it’s done.

His point is not quite getting across however, and Lael is back into his space again. “You miss me too, you know you do. I can’t stop thinking about your mouth.” Suddenly Lael is kissing him and Zayn is so taken aback, so repulsed, he pushes him away so hard that Lael tumbles to the floor.

“Hey! Hey!” Zayn hears Liam before he sees him, pushing past bodies to get to him. “What the bloody hell, he was only supposed to say hello...” Liam stops short.

Zayn’s looking at Liam now, his eyes bugging out of his head. “You knew about this then?!”

Liam’s hands are up, he’s searching for words. Guilt all over his face. “Zayn, I…”

Zayn can’t believe it. “You knew he was gonna be here?” Niall is there now, but his eyes are on the floor. “Fuck off, the lot of you.” Zayn yells. His chest feels tight, he can’t breathe.

Lael was bad enough, but now Liam too. This night is turning into a real winner.

They all watch him go. He doesn’t even bother getting his coat, he just walks out into the bitterly cold night, where he’s going he’s not even sure. 

\----

It’s freezing as fuck but it feels good on his skin. At least it lets him feel something other than what’s stirring inside of him now, turning his stomach inside out. It never gets this cold and Zayn says thanks to the weather for waiting till he was stuck outside. 

He reaches for his cigs and realizes he left them in his coat and swears under his breath. Standing alone in the street in the middle of winter with no cigarettes, no coat, in a tank top. He takes a deep breath and just looks around, rubbing his arms with his hands trying to warm up. Watching his breath float on the air.

The street is dead. All the people have found their people by now. As usual Zayn’s alone. The streetlights keeping him company and his phone burns a hole in his pocket but there’s no one for Zayn to call. No one.

Then, as if it was a ghost, he hears a low voice from behind him, a familiar voice, deep, scratchy. 

“You’re gonna catch a cold.” he says and Zayn turns around.

Zayn’s not sure what it is that takes over him then. Maybe it’s the freezing cold and how warm Harry looks. Maybe it’s the craving for a cigarette that he can’t fulfill. Maybe it’s because a few moments ago he pushed Lael away and felt nothing, or maybe it’s because his best friend lied to him. Maybe it’s a combination of all those things. 

Or maybe it’s just the way the snow starts falling right then, light on the air, onto the top of Harry’s head. The way it floats around Harry under the street lamps. The way Harry is looking at him, a look that Zayn doesn’t deserve. It’s not rage or hate or disgust like he should be giving him, he’s just there, waiting for him. His eyes clear, waiting, asking a question

So Zayn does the only thing he wants to do in that moment and walks - paces - over to Harry. Puts his freezing hands on Harry’s hot skin under the collar of coat. Puts his lips on Harry’s lips, his thumbs on Harry’s throat, feels the warmth of his body on his. He kisses him slow, soft, long and Harry kisses him right back. It’s slower than their first kiss in a dirty bathroom stall. It’s sweeter and Zayn takes his time with every inch of Harry’s mouth. His tongue trailing over Harry’s as if it were hands finding their way in the dark. 

Zayn stops and looks at Harry for a moment, letting them catch their breath, running his thumb along Harry’s sharp jaw. 

Harry’s surprised, he can tell, but he’s also got his hand out for a cab as he still looks at Zayn. Zayn cracks a smile and Harry follows. Zayn has to kiss him again once he sees the dimples formed deep in his cheeks. It’s automatic, he has no control.

“You’re freezing” Harry says, stopping for air again. It’s not a lie, Zayn is shivering, but he can’t tell if it’s from the cold or because Harry’s hands are on his waist.

Harry wraps his long black wool coat around Zayn. It’s big and heavy and Zayn wraps his arms around Harry’s middle and they can’t help giggle a little bit at that. It’s so warm inside as Zayn presses his face against Harry.

Harry’s looking down on him a little, not much taller but just enough. His hot breath escaping into the cold air. 

Harry looks right into his eyes, not turning away, suddenly serious, his brow furrowed. “you’re...you’re sure?” he says then, his eyes questioning a little, unsure. His hand still waving for a cab while the other one holds the coat around Zayn.

Zayn nods. He’s not sure. He’s just going moment by moment and right now he wants to be inside Harry’s coat with his shivering lips on Harry’s hot neck.

When they finally get into the cab, it’s Harry who kisses Zayn first. Where Zayn was soft before, now it’s Harry who makes things more heated. Zayn’s not one to make out in plain view of a cabbie but Harry seems to be able to ignore it and Zayn finds himself following his lead.

He pulls Zayn onto his lap and Zayn puts his forehead on Harry’s. He needs to catch his breath for a moment because this is moving much too fast and he’s feeling his jeans getting tighter way too soon. He can’t stop putting his hands into Harry’s hair and Harry pulls him into another kiss as Zayn wraps his arms around his head. Harry’s hands are on his ass and he pushes him closer, grinding Zayn into him. His mouth lifts off Zayn’s and he lets out a low sound. A low moan...almost under his breath. Zayn wishes he could play it over and over again in his head.

The cab stops and it’s all Zayn can do to lift his body off of Harry and out into the cold air. Harry holds his hand as he leads Zayn, running inside the front door, then up a flight of stairs to his place. 

When they get inside Harry doesn’t even bother with the lights, he just drops his big coat to the floor and pins Zayn against the door as he reaches around and locks it. Zayn pulls Harry closer to him by putting his fingers in the top of Harry’s jeans and yanking his body towards him. Harry trips forward clumsily, smashing his body into Zayn as he starts kissing him again with a smile. Zayn can’t stop laughing either as he keeps kissing Harry, smooshed up against the door, he hasn’t had this much fun in ages. 

Zayn feels Harry’s hand travel down as they kiss and he can feel his it on the zipper of his jeans. Feels him undo the button, pulling down the zipper and when Harry puts his hand on Zayn he moans into Zayn’s neck. Zayn can’t help but jerk his head back at that, smacking it on the door as he hears a sound escape his mouth too. 

“Don’t make that sound again or I’ll never last” Harry mumbles into his neck, his voice already cracking. Zayn smiles and bites his lip as he reaches down to take Harry’s shirt off, lifting it over his head. 

Quiet and slow he takes the sight of him in, He’s a work of art. Broad, solid, warm. Zayn traces the tattoos on his torso for a moment. Thumbing over two sets of leaves on his abdomen, a large butterfly a little higher up and grazing up to the swallows on his chest. He bends down and starts kissing them, kisses each tattoo one by one.

Zayn works his way down, following a trail of light hair and starts unbuttoning Harry’s jeans. Pulling them down to his ankles and then he goes to pull down his underwear but Zayn needs to stop for a moment to admire them. 

They’re tiny and bright pink and he can’t help but giggle. He looks up to find Harry peering down at him laughing at the same time, his cheeks beet read. Zayn can’t believe how much he’s laughing during this whole thing, he’s never laughed so much trying to shag someone before.

“Well well!” Zayn says before he slides them down Harry’s legs into the floor. Harry leans over him then, putting his hands on the door to steady himself.

On his knees now, Zayn’s hands hold and squeeze Harry’s thighs. Even his legs are driving Zayn crazy, but he doesn’t think about them too long though because a moment later he’s taking him into his mouth. 

Harry’s watching him as Zayn licks his tongue over his tip and slowly takes him in. He hears Harry gasp and he has to shut his eyes because just watching Harry is too much, too fast. Suddenly he feels Harry’s hand on his head, guiding him slowly, more gentle than Zayn would’ve thought. 

He hears a strained voice above him, “Zayn” and Harry pulls out. Zayn takes in a breath, unsure how far Harry wants this to go until he’s being raised up and pushed against the door again, Harry’s face in his, so close he can see Harry’s lips shake. He comes close to Zayn’s ear, “want you inside me” he says then, his words thick and heavy and Zayn takes Harry’s face in his hands and kisses him hard, he can’t not kiss Harry when he’s this close to him. 

Once again he can’t keep his thoughts straight around Harry. “Want to fuck you” Zayn manages to get out in between breaths and Harry smiles into his kisses.

Harry leaves another gentle kiss on Zayn’s mouth before turning and travelling to the bedroom and Zayn follows blindly in the darkness. Harry’s room is lit slightly from the streetlights pouring in from outside his window and Zayn can see the snow falling slowly outside for a moment, as he waits for Harry to get the necessaries. He can hear him puttering about the nightstand and Zayn tries not to focus on anything except this moment. He decides he’s not going to think about what’s going to happen after this because Harry is here and wants him, he wants Zayn. Even if it’s just for right now, he wants him. 

“Staring off again?” Harry says quietly behind him as he folds his arms around Zayn. He’s so warm, and it’s all Zayn can think about as he turns around and looks into those big green eyes. Harry doesn’t say anything he just takes Zayn by the hand and heads toward the bed. 

When Harry climbs onto the bed, Zayn waits standing, watching Harry bumble around until he’s sitting back on his feet watching Zayn. 

Zayn lifts his shirt off, his pants next, biting his lips at being so exposed. He’s not sure he’s ever been fully watched getting undressed, not even with Lael, at least not the way that Harry is watching him. His face is so soft, curious, his mouth curving so slightly as Zayn fumbles out of his jeans, mumbling curses. When he’s finally naked he climbs onto the bed, unable to take the image of Harry’s exposed skin any longer without his hands all over it. 

Zayn decides that If it’s only for one night, he wants to be consumed with every inch of Harry.

He watches every jerk of Harry’s muscles, every arch of his back. Harry’s so pliant in his hands and Zayn likes the feeling of being responsible for every sensation in his body.

He turns Harry over onto his stomach and folds himself over him, licking up his spine. 

A sound escapes from Harry’s mouth, a plea, as he says ‘please, please’, and Zayn doesn’t know the last time anyone has begged him like this and then, eventually, as Zayn pushes into him the sensation is overwhelming. Zayn can’t remember a time he took so long with someone, building them up.

Harry mewls below him as he pushes in further, hitting him at the perfect angle, perfect spot, and Harry grunts underneath him, as he pushes back onto Zayn. 

He hears Harry’s voice, as if from far away, as Zayn buries his face into his back. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna” he hears him saying and Zayn can only strangle out an answer, knowing he’s close too. 

“S’ok, it’s ok” he hisses out and he feels Harry trembling underneath him, his head falling, making the most beautiful noise Zayn’s ever heard. Zayn’s hands tighten around Harry as comes, as if crashing into a wall. 

If feels like forever until he falls to the bed, and turns to look at Harry, who’s still face down in the sheets.

He’s not sure what to say until Harry turns his head, his face covered in his wild hair, but Zayn can see his dimple, his smile peeking through and he feels himself smiling back.

“Well!” Zayn says and Harry’s giggling again and fuck it if Zayn’s never been more wrong about what someone would be like in the sack.

“Well, well” Harry answers as he shifts to his back, reaching for a blanket that’s pooled around the bottom of the bed. He covers them as he scooches close to Zayn. 

Zayn’s not sure what to do now. He’s so tired and Harry’s body heat is lulling him into sleep. He’s thinking maybe, maybe, he shouldn’t fall asleep but then he feels Harry trace a finger down the bridge of his nose, outlining his lips, and running it over his jaw. Lazily Harry leans over, pressing a gentle kiss on Zayn’s lips before falling back to the bed. 

Zayn can barely keep his eyes open as he searches for a pillow to lay his head on, he paws for one until he finds it and wedges it under his head. A moment later it’s being ripped out with a giggle and his head flops back to the mattress.

Zayns rubs the back of his head, letting out an “oy!” until Harry props another one under his head. 

“It’s my pillow, can’t sleep without it” he says sleepily, with half a yawn and then closes his eyes. One big breath letting out as his chest rises and falls. Zayn smiles and shakes his head, thinking about how different he imagined this would be. He doesn’t think for long though, moments later he’s drifting off too, his hand unconsciously resting on Harry’s chest. 

\-------

When Zayn opens his eyes the room is dark and everything looks a dark shade of blue. It’s not quite morning yet, but it soon will be. His body goes into autopilot and he gets up out of bed to go to his little bathroom but all at once he realizes he’s not in his apartment. 

It all floods back suddenly as he turns around to see Harry’s bare back, the back of his head covered in mussed up curls. His body splayed on the bed. It rushes back to Zayn what happened the night before.

Zayn thinks about what to do next. He’s naked so the first thing he does is put his clothes on as quietly as possible, though it seems like Harry is quite the sound sleeper as is. 

Ok, he’s dressed, now what?

He thinks about staying...no. He can’t stay. That would just be awkward. Harry’s done this plenty of times before and he’s also sure Harry would like to get up and just have his breakfast and get on with the day. Wouldn’t want Zayn hanging around him like a lost kitten or something.

He thinks about leaving a note...no. What would he say?! ‘Thanks for the best sex I’ve had in years - no, it’s the best sex he’s ever had - also I want to paint a picture the colour of your eyes.’

He should just leave. It’d be weird to stay. Harry would be annoyed. They both got what they needed so Zayn just scoots out of the room in his socks, puts on his boots and goes for the door. He stops for a second and looks around though, out of pure curiosity. 

He knows he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t want to know more about Harry because it’s bad enough as is, but he does it anyway.

It’s neat. Really neat. It’s bigger than his apartment but Harry doesn’t have a roommate, Zayn can tell. It’s not covered in liquor bottles or clothes, or cigarette stubs like Zayn would have thought. No dishes in the sink from what he can tell. There’s a used mug on the counter next to a bonsai tree. There’s art on the walls, but Zayn can tell it’s original stuff...like Harry has friends who paint or draw things for him. One wall in the kitchen is a deep orange colour. There’s a record player and records in the corner, neatly placed on a shelf. There’s a couple records left out and one in the player. Zayn wants to see what they are, he’s dying to look but he can’t...he shouldn’t…

All of sudden he hears a shallow cough from the bedroom and within half a second he’s silently out the door and padding down the stairwell, out of breath as he gets outside. With no coat and freezing cold he makes his way to the tube and then home, finally. He glances at his phone on the way, 10 unread texts from Liam. He decides to ignore them. He’s itching for a cigarette and curses himself for leaving them in his jacket last night at the club. He makes a mental note to go back and get it at some point.

The sun is finally rising once he opens the door to his apartment and Elmo greets him lazily at the door. rubbing up against his leg. Zayn stoops to scratch his head doing a quiet “hey buddy” before shuffling to his bed and collapsing on it. Too tired to think about anything, or maybe he’s just too scared to think about it.

\--------

 

It’s early in the afternoon when Zayn finally wakes up. It’s a gorgeous day, he can tell already. It’s sunny and it looks cold, but it’s not snowing or anything it’s just bright. Zayn showers and cleans up a bit. Oddly not thinking about anything at all until he sits down by the window with Elmo in his lap. 

He lays his head back on the wall and lets out a sigh.

“Fuck.” he says out loud to no one in particular, his eyes closed. He finally picks up his phone to read his messages and sees he has 2 more from a number he didn’t have programmed into his phone. When he looks, he reads them once...and then again...and then one more time.

“where are you”

is the first one. then another one, a half hour later.

“so I just wanted to say that last night was fun. I guess I’ll be seeing you later at the gig?”

It’s Harry then. Okay. Zayn doesn’t know what to write back so he doesn’t. He likes Harry, but he could never just casually text him like that after a one night shag. He doesn’t want to be friends with Harry.

He’s pretty sure he could never just be friends with Harry, even if he tried. He decides to do the work for Harry and put him out of his misery. So he texts him back.

“Yeah man, see you around, take it easy” and pushes send.

There. Casual. No weird things about Harry’s curls or eyes or ass or anything. Now Harry can move on and not be weird. He thinks for a second and then types out another message. 

“don’t worry I wasn’t expecting breakfast ;) it’s cool”

Zayn doesn’t even save Harry’s number in his phone he just deletes the whole conversation and moves on to Liam’s texts. 

They’re mostly just him saying ‘where are you, what happened’ over and over again and then ending with “call me you fucker” so Zayn calls him despite still being angry as fuck at him.

“So after you left the club you just went home?” Liam says, sounding unsure after Zayn spits a lie out about what happened.

“Yeah I just...it was a lot with Lael and everything, I just wanted to go. I’m still fucking pissed at you for calling him and then not telling me. Like what the fuck Liam! Who does that!?” he has to just be out with it. He can’t let things fester.

Liam just sighs. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I just wanted you to know...I just wanted you to get some closure and Lael sounded like that’s what he wanted to! Bro, I had no idea he would...that he wanted…” Zayn can tell Liam is wracked with guilt. He also knows that Liam is an idiot and that all of this, all of it, was done with the best intentions. “He called me and sounded like he wanted to say goodbye to you and…”

Zayn cuts him off before he digs a deeper hole for himself. “Just tell me next time yeah? Like, don’t surprise me with shit?” He says finally, resigned, and Liam can sense his anger is dwindling. 

“I’m so sorry” he apologizes again. And then again and again and again. Zayn tells him it’s okay. That’s it all okay. Liam just sounds happy by the end of the call. “Well I should go, Niall’s cooked me some pancakes. Did I tell you he cooks for me? I’m a chef and he cooks!” He’s giggling and everything seems back to normal again. “Oh by the way, Harry Styles called here looking for your number this morning, at like seven o’clock, how strange! Niall still thinks he’s fancies you” 

Liam says Harry’s name so casually that it’s a good thing they’re talking on the phone and not in person because Zayn literally jumps when he hears his name. He’s pausing too long.

“Oh” is all he manages.

“Why don’t you like him?” Liam asks again with his voice lowering a little on the other end, but before Zayn can mumble out another lie he hears Niall in the background, yelling quite clearly, for Liam to ‘get his arse of da phone cause he got pancakes da size of texas and golf’s on the tv so he better hurry up. they’re da best pancakes in t’ world’

Zayn smiles at that and he hears Liam yell out “comin’ babe” and then they say a quick goodbye. 

When Zayn presses the end button and puts his phone down, he stays sitting a while, peering out his window to the street below. People shuffling about and bundled up a bit from the cold. Cars rattling down the street. The sound of their tires on the slush combined with Elmo’s purring is all he hears for a while until his thoughts are too loud.

He can’t stop thinking about Harry.

On one hand he’s quite proud of himself for managing to get off with someone because let’s face it, it’s been a while. On the other hand, he’s so angry that it was with Harry because he can’t just turn off whatever it is he’s feeling for Harry.

He wants to know what record he has in his player. He wants to know if that dark orange wall in his kitchen is his favourite colour. He wants to know if his friends paint pictures for him often. Does he pick out the ones he wants? He wants to know what was in that used mug. How does he take his tea? Did someone make it for him? Does he call his mom everyday? Does he have any siblings?

He thinks about the way Harry’s eyes light up when he smiles. His breathy little laugh when they were kissing. The way his hands felt, strong on Zayn’s arms. He can feel them ghosting over his arms now and all he can think is how much he wishes Harry were his and suddenly it’s all too much for him to digest. He needs a distraction.

He decides to go visit his mum. Even if he can’t talk about what happened last night yet, she’ll make him something to eat and tell him everything will be ok, and sometimes that’s all he needs.

\----------  
His mom, indeed, did make him feel better. Knowing as only she does when Zayn just needs a home cooked meal and silence shared between them. 

Only when he’s done eating does she speak.

“I just want you to be happy” Her eyes are sad as she watches him from across the small table in her kitchen. 

He feels terrible. He knows he’s been distant. He knows he’s been circling the same things, not going anywhere, he knows she worries about him.

“I’m fine mum, I’m just…” he searches for words to reassure her. “I know I’m not like, the same as I was? but I’m also like, okay you know? I’m not depressed or anything.” He doesn’t sound as confident as he would like.

She looks at him a moment and takes his hand.

“Then paint me a picture, or write me something...anything. I want to see you creating again. You never seem to want to do anything lately darling, and I think it would make you feel better. You’re so smart, so talented. It’s that bloody job...” and here she goes once again. The same rant about his job. How he’s working below his education. How he’s better than just being a bartender.

“Mum I like my job!” he says defensively, “so just chill alright?”

“Fine, fine! But don’t let it define who you are, you are more than that.” and he knows she’s done then. She takes his plate and goes to do the dishes. Leaving him at the table with his thoughts.

Maybe he really should do something different. Maybe he should do more than sleep, eat, and go to work, but it’s a bad time for that revelation since he’s got about 20 minutes before he has to start tonight’s shift, and suddenly he feels his stomach turn over at the thought of it. The Lads’ last hurrah at Gracie’s.

Suddenly he wants to call in sick.

\-----------

When he gets there, there’s already a few people filling the tables. He sees The Lads setting up their equipment. In the corner Louis and Lou are having, what seems to be a quite heated discussion. Nothing Lou can’t handle Zayn’s sure. 

As he takes his leather coat off, leaving him in his grey pullover to which he’s rolled the sleeves up, he starts prepping for the night. Taking each step at a time, mechanical. Trying his best not to notice Harry, who’s been joking and setting things up with The Lads since he arrived. He tries not to notice Harry’s lavender sweater, his curls falling perfectly to his shoulders, or the fact that he looks even more beautiful than usual tonight.

Nope. Nope nope nope. 

Zayn rolls his sleeves up a little more and keeps cutting the limes. 

He hears people all around him but keeps his eyes down. He hears Andy mumbling with his mouth full to some girl who was unfortunate enough to sit next to him. He hears Niall laughing. Loud, boisterous, without apology. He hears Lou telling Liam to hurry up with the potatoes. 

Still he keeps his head down. He just wants to get tonight overwith.

When he finally does look up, just as the band finishes setting up. Just as the bar is filled with waiting ears, he sees Harry right away in his eyeline. He’s hugging a girl, she’s got two pigtails, bright teal. Harry closes his eyes as he bends down to hug her and then kisses her cheek, giving her a cheeky wink before getting into his usual position to sing.

Zayn laughs to himself, shaking his head as he keeps cutting up the limes. He’s trying not to be bitter but the least he could do is wait one bloody night after they hooked up. Whatever. It’s probably nothing.

He can barely watch as The Lad’s play their first set, but he can’t close his ears. It’s a good show. They put their all into and everyone is lapping it up. Zayn finds it even harder to hear Harry’s voice wailing out this night. God, he’s so good. Zayn had forgotten how good. He says a little thank you when they stop for a break. He needs to collect himself. The night is almost half over. He can do this.

He’s thinking about going out for some air or ironically, a cigarette, when he hears Harry saying a drawn out “Hiiiii” and propping himself on a barstool in front of where Zayn is working. Zayn looks up at him. Harry’s face eager, smiling. His hair mussed up from performing. Zayn can’t help wondering why Harry has to make things awkward. Why can’t he just stay away for a bit? 

“Hey” Zayn says back, trying to appear cool, calm, chill. Wiping out a glass, giving Harry an easy smile. Like two bros just sayin hello. Maybe this won’t be too hard, he tells himself.

“Glad you’re here for the last show” Harry says casually.

“Yeah man, of course” Zayn says back, turning around and busying himself, rearranging cups on the shelf for absolutely no reason. 

Before Harry can get his next words out, Andy breaks the silence, his speech slurred. The night is half over and he’s already pissed. “Hey man how’s your mom?” he says to Harry with a smirk and Zayn winces.

“She’s good thanks” Harry replies flatly, a little put off. Turning back to Zayn right away.

“She seeing anyone these days?” Andy says again, practically cackling at himself now. “or is it still a revolving door?” 

Zayn doesn’t know what to say then, but one look at Harry’s face is enough to tell him that it’s rubbing Harry the wrong way. If it was Zayn and Andy was saying that about his mother, Andy would probably be on the floor by now.

“Bro…” Zayn starts, thinking he should say something but Harry cuts him off.

His voice is steady and slow. “Hey man, listen, enjoy the show okay?” and he turns back to continue talking to Zayn, shaking his head a little, but Andy interjects again, after taking another swig of his drink.

“I hear the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I heard Zayn got a taste of the Styles’ goods. Cox Junior. How did he taste Zayn? Did you taste the girl from the night before on his dick?” 

Zayn so shocked that he’s speechless. How does Andy know? Harry face is a bag of emotions but he’s not speaking either. They both just stand there in silence, Zayn looking from Andy to Harry, and Harry looking at Zayn and before Zayn has a chance to say anything at all, Harry is off his seat and trudging to the toilets with his head down.

“The fuck man?!” Zayn yells at Andy then, hopping over the bar and rushing past people to the washroom after Harry. 

When he pushes through the door and into the washroom, there’s a few guys at the sinks. He can see Harry’s brown boots inside a stall. Leaning into the door, he knocks quietly.

“Harry?” he says, trying not to bring too much attention to them. The guys at the sinks seem to catch on and scuffle out and then it’s just him and Harry.

“Harry?” he asks again. 

“I’m fine. I just didn’t want to start a fight…”

Zayn’s heart aches at the tone of Harry’s voice. He is so clearly not fine.

“Listen Harry…” Zayn starts, but Harry cuts him off, unbolting and opening the stall door to stand in front of Zayn. His face and neck flushed. Zayn can’t stand to see him like this. He might say he was ready to fight, but from what Zayn can tell he was ready to break down.

So then, all at once, he’s in Zayn’s arms. Zayn’s face buried into his neck and hair. Zayn’s breathing in Harry’s scent from his fuzzy sweater, remembering how warm he is when he’s in Harry’s arms.

Zayn pulls back and takes Harry’s face into his hands, kissing him quickly, once, twice, and three times and then holding him again for a while, running his hand over his back.

When they break, Zayn keeps his hands on Harry’s face “I can’t believe he said that...he’s a twat.” He says to him, stroking his jaw with his thumb.

Zayn rests his forehead on Harry’s and after a few seconds, when Harry lets out a sigh, Zayn’s hoping he’s calmed down a bit. Harry looks at him and in a resigned way, his voice quiet and small, “she’s my mum, you know? I’m used to people saying things, but she’s not like that. You know that right?”

“Of course Harry, no one really thinks that, Andy’s pissed...and what he said about you…and me...” but Zayn stops. Once again, he doesn’t know how to sugarcoat. He doesn’t know how to not say exactly what he thinks, so as usual he says nothing at all. 

Harry waits for him to finish, his eyes waiting. Those beautiful eyes. Slowly his brows furrow, still peering into Zayn’s eyes. He’s questioning Zayn without even saying a word. He takes Zayn’s hands in his, gently lifting them from his face and letting them go.

It’s Harry who speaks first. His eyes turning from questioning to a quiet anger. “Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you defend me? Why’d you just let him say those things?” His volume low, his voice steady.

Zayn knows he has to say something, he has to try. The words stumble out like blocks tumbling from a toddlers bucket. He doesn’t know where to look.

“I was shocked. I...I didn’t think it would be a big deal to you, you know?” He’s messing things up even more but Harry is waiting patiently. “you know how it is.” That’s all he can finish with and he feels his own face flushing.

“Oh, so how is it then?” Harry is still watching him, but now his voice is louder. He crosses his arms on his chest. “So did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Did you taste her? The girl from the night before? Did you taste her on my dick?” His voice is shaking but he’s bolt upright and angry now.

“Harry…”

“Is that what you think?”

Zayn can’t believe this. How is he the bad guy in this situation? Just a few nights ago Harry was with someone. Taking Purple Hair home in the back of a cab just like he did with Zayn. Hell, a moment ago he was winking at some bird. He’s not going to be made a fool because he’s realistic about Harry’s life choices.

“Mate, you know who you are. Last night was fun, we had a good time. I get that you’re not into seeing anyone on the regular and that’s cool but like...you don’t have to pretend that it’s bad or something.” 

Harry talks fast in a breathy whisper, his head is down now shaking. “That’s why you left...” he says “s’why you didn’t want breakfast...you said…you really think that’s all you were?...a random shag?..is that what it was for you?” His eyes are big, begging Zayn for an answer.

And Zayn answers before his brain can catch up to his mouth. “Wasn’t it?” 

Why wouldn’t it be? Harry can have whoever he wants, any night of the week.

All Harry can manage out is a small, almost inaudible “no” before rushing past Zayn and out the bathroom door, letting it swing until it’s closed and now Zayn is alone once more, staring at the door swinging shut.

Is it possible, in this life, that Harry Styles could want Zayn, just the way Zayn wants him to?

\--------

That night was the last show The Lads played at Gracie’s. 

Lou and Louis had a fight that night that everyone was still talking about, weeks later. While Harry and Zayn had been weaving a tangled noodle bowl of miscommunicated feelings in the toilets, there had been drama unfolding in the bar.

They didn’t even play after the intermission. Patrons were nonplussed at the early night and Harry had left as soon as he could, not staying to help the band pack up. 

Niall and Liam were left to try to patch up the pieces. Liam had helped the boys gather everything up, all of them a little confused, and as Zayn stood stiffly at the bar taking orders, he could see Niall and Liam giving each other sympathetic looks. 

He saw Liam give Niall’s hand a squeeze and brush his hair from his forehead.

Zayn’s stomach turned into knots. He had hurt Harry. He didn’t even think it was possible for someone like him to hurt someone like Harry.

That night, when finally he had returned home to his little apartment, to Elmo curled by his feet in the bed, he slept uneasy. Waking up at 4am and sipping tea by the window, watching the empty street below, replaying the way Harry had said “no”

He wasn’t a notch on Harry’s bedpost. He was a judgemental asshole.

He can’t stop thinking about that night now. How sweet Harry had been. Giggling with every kiss and touch...and Zayn presses a hand to his forehead to stop himself from breaking.

Everything had meant something, everything. 

He hadn’t even paid enough attention at the time to see it, and now he wishes he could turn back time and remember every little thing. Every brush of his hand, every sound from his mouth, every laugh, every utterance in the dark. But he was a fool. 

And now he was a fool falling for a boy who hated him.

\--------------

Zayn can always tell he’s a city boy when he finds himself in the country somehow, and now with his coat bundled around him like a blanket he finds his thoughts wandering as usual. 

It’s freezing and he can hear his sisters inside the house padding about, yelling about something or other. His aunt yelling at the same time for them to pick up their clothes they’ve left strewn about the house, almost in the same breath she’d used to shoo him out of the house to smoke his cigarette. 

He always loved coming to visit her over winter break and now that it’s almost over he finds himself itching to get back to normal life. Almost a week of nothing but homemade cooking has left him feeling full and stronger somehow though, more relaxed. 

But now his shoulders tense at the thoughts filling his mind once more, the same ones that flood in a 2am when he’s finally shut his book and trying to sleep. The feeling of warmth inside Harry’s coat, the way his skin goosebumped at every touch.

He tries shaking his head, maybe he can physically propel the memories out of his body. A few more slow draws and he makes his way back inside, scratching at his beard that’s grown in after a few days being ignored. There’s a ruckus now about hair products being switched around and while yeah, Zayn loves his family, he also loves his space, and the quiet...and he misses Elmo.

So all at once, he decides to go home a day early. Hoping to distract himself with chores and this and that before he has to go back to work, back to the grind.

His aunt kisses him goodbye and gives a weak argument to stay, though Zayn can see in her eyes she understands he has to go. She’s always had a soft spot for the quiet one.

\----

Looking out the window of the train, Zayn watches as the scenery passes. Feeling himself reverting back to normalcy even just getting physically closer to the city. The low rumble of the train and a few stray conversations fill his ears and he’s thinking about putting some music on, thinking...but not doing it. Every song reminds him of Harry, if he’s being honest with himself. 

With a sigh, he decides to wallow in his misery and when he finally puts his earbuds in, his phone buzzes suddenly as if it was waiting for him to make a move. It’s Liam.

He hadn’t talked to Liam since he’d left for his holiday. He had told him that Andy had pissed Harry off that night and that’s why he’d left. Liam had just accepted that. Zayn wasn’t sure if Liam knew more and wasn’t saying, or if he was merely too distracted by the fact that he wouldn’t be able to watch Niall playing drums at Gracie’s anymore at work.

Zayn had wanted to tell Liam, he really had, he’d even planned on it. His pride was stopping him because a) he had been, all around, a lousy person and b) he was a lovesick loser. He knows Liam would probably understand but it’s not Zayn’s strong suit...letting people see the cracks.

He knows he can’t put it off much longer though and holding his breath a little he answers the call.

“bro!” he hears Liam belt out as soon as he answers.

Zayn doesn’t notice any tension in his voice, and he’s thankful for that. “whats up man, haven’t talked for a while” 

“I know, listen, I want to ask how your holiday’s been and all that but like I’m in a bit of bind” Zayn can hear Liam breathing heavily, out of breath almost, on the other end.

“Oh what’s up?”

“So like, it’s a long story but The Lads are going on tour!” 

Zayn stops short for a second at the mention of The Lads but keeps his voice steady. “That’s wicked! but what’s wrong though?”

“It’s Harry, he’s gone and broken his arm, he got mortal at the pub this weekend, mate it was a mess, but he’s incapacitaro at the mo and he needs shit from his flat”

It takes Zayn a second to process all the information. Broken arm? “Is Harry alright?” Its the only thought going through his mind.

“Yeah, yes! Yes he’s fine! He’s just up at Niall’s now and me and Ni are doing everything for the tour, Louis and Mikey are up North doing some kind of contract business and they all have to leave tomorrow for the first show. It’s a mess but can you please, please, go to Harry’s and get a few things?” 

Zayn doesn’t even think about it before answering “of course, of course” he pauses a minute “does Harry know you’re asking me to do this?” he says, hoping Liam doesn’t know anything more about what happened than before.

“No, I don’t think he’d care but like...do you want me to ask him?” 

“No! No, no it’s okay, I’ll go.” Zayn says quickly, suddenly taken with the thought of seeing Harry’s flat again. He’d take any little piece of Harry he can have at this point.

“Alright, he’s at the hospital with Niall right now anyway. I don’t know what’s gotten into him, he hasn’t been right. Do you know? Did he say anything more to you after? At the bar last week?”

Zayn stops breathing, rolling over what he should say in his mind, but he’s too worked up thinking about Harry. Knowing that this was probably all his doing and now Harry’s out getting drunk, breaking bones. Zayn feels his chest hurt.

He answers him “no...no idea”

\----------

 

The key sits right where Liam told him, sitting precariously on the door frame. He’s got a list of things of he needs to get. General things like toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, his pillow...Zayn smiles at that, the memory of Harry’s slow, tired voice “It’s my pillow” echoing in his head.

God, what other memories would he have to hold on to and store away. Or maybe he should forget them.

When he gets inside it’s clear no one’s been home for a day or so, the drapes closed shut and the sun outside fighting to get in. The air is stale and there’s foggy glow to the space and Zayn suddenly has the feeling like he shouldn’t be here, he doesn’t deserve it. Yet still, he walks in, his eyes searching for something, he doesn’t know what.

He can’t help himself as he makes his way over the record player, now with no chance of anyone seeing him as he delicately thumbs through them. Mostly classic rock, some old school hip hop and Zayn smiles at that. In the record player is Jeff Buckley “Lover, you should’ve come over”.

Zayn trails his finger along the bookshelf, there’s cookbooks, two versions of the bible, and a photo of Harry’s mom, her arms around a small Harry, and a girl. Just looking at them he can see they are brother and sister.

His eyes travel to another picture, no frame but laying propped against a bowl holding concert ticket stubs and other random objects. It’s Harry and his sister, older, it’s recent. It takes a second, but Zayn can see her purple hair and he closes his eyes, then, shaking it. He’s such an idiot. 

Purple hair was his sister. His sister.

Zayn flops onto the sofa and buries his face in his hands. What a mess. If he’d just stopped for a second maybe he would’ve seen it, or maybe he should’ve just asked Harry from the start what was happening. 

After a moment he gets up and sets his mind to the task of getting Harry’s things. He tries not to think about Harry getting wasted or why, or how he’s probably in a lot of pain at the moment.

He tries not to examine his medicine cabinet, or how neat his towels sit folded in the closet. He tries not to smell his cologne sitting on the dresser, though it lingers in the air still. 

Lastly, he gets Harry’s pillow, trying not to look at the bed. On the nightstand he sees a Gracie’s coaster and a flyer for The Lads, ones they’d had plastered around. Sentimental little shit. Zayn’s heart aches.

On his way out he takes another look around Harry’s flat, one more for the road, and locks the door behind him. Putting the key back in it’s place.

\--------

When he finally gets to Niall’s place, getting a bit turned around before finding it, he’s hoping Harry is still at the hospital because the thought of facing him scares him to death if he’s being honest. Another part of him forms a ball in his stomach at the prospect of just seeing Harry’s face again. 

Liam answers the door and Zayn can hear Niall in the background yelling out something about gas money and Zayn freezes knowing that in all likelihood, Harry is somewhere in this flat. He walks slowly inside, the duffel bag in his hand, and then he sees him, Harry, strutting out from the bedroom. His arm in a sling, cast fresh. He looks tired, his hair left down and long to his shoulders as he yawns, scratching his stomach with his good arm. He’s wearing what looks like Niall’s sweats and tee, since the shirt has DERBY written all over it. 

He’s already mid sentence as he yawns, “Ni, d’you think that we could get Nando’s for supper, like just take it out…” till he spots Zayn standing awkwardly in the doorway.

When Harry’s words fall short, Niall’s brow furrows as he stops to watch them, looking from Harry to Zayn and then back to Harry. Liam’s standing next to Zayn looking at his phone until he notices the silence and looks up to see what’s going on. 

The silence hangs in the air. Zayn can’t stand how loud it is in his mind, he has to something, anything, but Harry is looking at him and he’s waiting, and Zayn’s going to wait for him because he can see the words on Harry’s tongue, waiting to lash out. 

He watches as Harry takes a breath, but then nothing, he says nothing.

“I got your things” Zayn says as he drops the bag by the door.

Harry’s brow furrows “How’d you get in?” 

“There was a key...above your door...Liam…” Zayn wishes he could pause time for a second so he could get together something to say, anything.

“Thanks, you should probably go then” Harry says calmly and Zayn can see Liam’s face contort into something resembling a question mark. 

Zayn can feel the words in his chest, he wants to tell him everything, tell him he didn’t think Harry would want anything more from someone like Zayn than a one night stand. That he was boring and liked his cat and that Harry was born to be a rock star.

Instead he turns to leave, closing the door behind him, feeling his blood pressure fall as he heads down the small flight of stairs. 

He’s almost out till he hears the door open and close behind him and he turns around hoping it’s Harry, but it’s Liam and he’s got his jacket on. 

“Mate we’re going to have a talk” he says, taking Zayn by the arm and hauling him out into the street. 

They march wordless until they reach a cafe just around the corner from Niall’s flat.

When they finally sit down after Liam quickly gets them two teas inside the cozy eatery that’s practically empty if not for them, Liam is the first to talk and he’s not messing about.

“You have to tell me what went on with you and Harry” he says firmly. He’s not being harsh he just knows Zayn needs a push.

With a sigh, Zayn gives in. “I didn’t know….I thought...I wanted him the first moment I saw him Liam, you know? Do you know how scary that was to feel after these last couple years?”

Liam shakes his head “God, Zayn…” but Zayn does let him finish. Instead he tells him what had happened, the want, the hurt, the confusion of it all and Liam just sits there listening, like he always has and Zayn’s never felt so grateful for him.

“So basically, he thinks I’m an ass and I am.” Zayn finishes.

“No, he thinks you just wanted to use him...” Liam says finally, taking a sip of his tea. “I can’t believe you thought he took Gemma home with him, that’s his sister mate, didn’t you even try creepin him on Facebook or something?! Google?!” Liam says then and Zayn just looks at him incredulously.

“Who does that!”

“Everyone does that! God you’re hopeless!” Liam says, throwing his hands up.

“I know! Now I’m just...I still like him is the problem! I still want him but like, how do I explain that I just didn’t think he’d want me back? I was afraid...I was afraid he’d just...that I’d fall and...he’d just drop me.”

Liam just watches him, falling quiet. “Like Lael”

“Yeah I guess so”

“He’s not Lael”

“Then what do I do?!” 

“Mate, you just say it. Just tell him.”

Zayn lets the thought swirl in his mind. Would Harry even listen?

“He’s mad but he’ll hear you out...I can tell” Liam says then, as if reading Zayn’s thoughts. “Listen, the boys all leave tomorrow and I think you need to tell him, he’s a mess Zayn. You don’t know…” Liam lets his words drift off.

“Don’t know what?! Tell me what happened last night” Zayn says then, remembering Harry’s broken arm, slung in the cast. 

“He got blasted. Wasn’t even wearing shoes by the end of the night, fell over at the bar because he was on the top of a table and fell off...christ, Lou had to drag him out, he called her of all people which makes no sense but I think he was looking for you so he called Gracie’s...he was so out of it…”

Zayn feels his stomach lurch forward, like he might vomit, sick with guilt.

“Is he okay now?”

“He just woke up, maybe 10 minutes before you came in but yeah...yeah he’s okay.”

Zayn sits quiet for a moment. All the thoughts running through his head like a storm.

“Listen to me, I’ve never seen you like this in the few years I’ve known you. Are you just going to let this fizzle because you’re afraid?”

Zayn just keeps looking at his tea, swirling his spoon, thinking...thinking…

He doesn’t say anything as he rises from his seat and Liam is already smiling as Zayn tugs on his jacket and scarf. 

“Mate, I’m proud of you” Liam says with a grin and Zayn just gives him a small smile and shake of his head, his heartbeat pounding so hard he can feel it in his ears. 

Within moments he’s outside and he thought he could walk it but now he has to run because he wants nothing more than to see Harry as soon as physically possible. His feet below him scraping along the sidewalk, his legs moving faster and faster, nothing but the picture of Niall’s flat clear in his mind.

The cold brushes his face as he runs, its the best thing he’s felt in a while and he closes his eyes against the feeling.

When he opens them again he’s there, right in front of him. On the sidewalk in a tee shirt and sweats looking like a ghost. Rain boots on and his long hair pulled back into a bun, his eyes wide. 

Zayn stops short, out of breath. This...this isn’t what he was planning on.

Harry looks at him a moment but then, just as he had run to him in the street outside the club, Zayn is running to Harry again, crashing into him, holding him. He withdraws and looks into his eyes for a moment and suddenly he’s kissing him and Harry is kissing him back.

Zayn is babbling something as he’s kissing him “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” and he can’t stop saying it over and over and Harry is just smiling and laughing.

Zayn sees Harry is shivering and watching him, he unzips his coat and hugs him inside. “What are you even doing out here!?” he says to Harry, taken so off guard he doesn’t know what else to do or say.

“It was Niall...I told him, I told him everything. He said I had to come find you, he said I had to…” He stops, unsure, “he said I have to tell you that I’m falling for you and...I have to ask you if you want to go on a date with me” and then he flushes and Zayn can feel his heart burst. “If you...want to…”

“Yes, yes I do but...aren’t you cross with me?” he asks incredulously thinking ‘did he just ask me out on a date?!’

Harry smiles at that. “I was but...I think the things you do speak louder than the things you’ve said and I...Zayn, I’m not being pompous when I say I think you’re diggin this” and then he gestures to himself silly like and Zayn can’t stop giggling like a 3rd grader. It hits him then how crazy he was to think that Harry was anything like Lael. To think he was the sort of person who wouldn’t run to find him, who didn’t see him.

He plants a kiss on Harry “you’re not wrong” he says sheepishly.

Harry huffs a little laugh “and what are you doing out here?!” he asks him then, squishing into Zayn’s chest, planting a small kiss onto the side of his head.

“Liam” he says and then they both start laughing, “it’s a conspiracy!” 

“Where would we be without those two.”

\----------

Zayn decides to draw a little superhero man with a cape on Harry’s cast and he’s rummaging through his desk in his boxers as Harry lays in bed dozing off. When he finds the colourshe wants, he stands by the bed for a second, watching Harry sleep. So peaceful with the white duvet fluffing around him, his hair still half up in the bun and the other half falling along his neck, little corkscrew curls forming around the base. 

Gently Zayn gets into the bed, shifting to his side and starts his drawing only to hear a little sigh and then Harry licking his lips coming back to life. 

“Good morning” he says and Zayn feels butterflies at the sound of Harry’s morning voice, rough and deep.

“Hello beautiful” he says back with a smile and then keeps on with his work. Harry lays in place, watching Zayn work, watching Zayn’s face concentrated, his tongue out of his mouth as he outlines a little red cape.

“Who’s that then” Harry asks him.

“Dunno, just a little super kid”

“I want to name him”

Zayn smiles. 

“Can I call him Pip?” Harry asks.

“Yeah I like that” and Zayn nods his head in agreement as he puts a little P on Pip’s shirt.

“P for Pip” Harry says with giggle as Elmo jumps up on the bed. He’s purring away as Harry scratches his head, finally curling into a ball against Harry’s side.

Zayn wants to keep this mental picture in his head forever. His boys. “When do you leave?” Zayn asks, not looking up, once again saying his first thought.

Harry lays his head back to the pillow. “Dunno, lunchtime I guess” he says, rubbing his eyes.

“When do you come back?” 

“Just a few weeks...just going around the bend” and then Harry raises himself up with his good arm and props his head on Zayn’s shoulder, “come with me” he whispers to him and Zayn feels goosebumps from Harry’s question.

A million things go through Zayn’s head. What about his job? What about his cat? What about his life?

But then as always, he talks before he can think too long because he knows the answer. He knew it the moment Harry asked him, and he knows he will work the details out because right now, there’s nothing in the world he wants more than this.

“I’d go with you anywhere. I want to be with you everywhere.”

 

~


End file.
